


All This Time We've Spent

by Emiline



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hicsqueak Fest, Hopeful Ending, Pining, Pippa-centric, disregards season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: In all the years that pass between the dissolution of Hecate and Pippa’s friendship and their eventual reconciliation, Pippa never entirely stops missing Hecate.For the prompt: "Pippa-centric, missing Hecate through the years."





	All This Time We've Spent

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is built on a pre-season 3 understanding of the show and characters.
> 
> The title is of course from the season 1 episode "Spelling Bee". 
> 
> Thanks to @amillionmillion voices for organizing and running the Hicsqueak fest this summer!
> 
> Update: This fic now has a companion fic [After This, It Will Be Easier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192161).

In all the years that pass between the dissolution of Hecate and Pippa’s friendship and their eventual reconciliation, Pippa never entirely stops missing Hecate. There are days and weeks and months in which she wishes she could, in which she cannot decide with whom she is more angry - Hecate or herself, for being unable to let go of that which Hecate chose to rend asunder.

But it would be like ripping out part of her own heart, and however much distress the recollections sometimes cause her, that she cannot do.

* * *

When Hecate abruptly, without warning or explanation, exits from Pippa’s life, Pippa is at first too bewildered and hurt to chase after her. She is flabbergasted that Hecate ceases to interact with her in any way, save that which is absolutely necessary as related to their coursework. She asks, she pleads, she demands that Hecate give her some sort of answer, but Hecate will vouchsafe none, and Pippa is left to her own devices to try to puzzle it out as best she can.

She has her theories, and none of them are pleasant. Amidst her grief and confusion an anger begins to grow. Pippa latches on to it, tells herself that she hates Hecate and wants nothing more to do with her anyhow. It is a lie which convinces no one, least of all herself, but she holds fast to it. A simple hatred is easier to name and manage than the complicated, intertwining mess of emotions that she truly feels. The longer Hecate refuses to speak to her, the longer Pippa misses her, the more tempting it is to cling to that hatred. Perhaps, Pippa thinks, if she hates her enough she won’t miss her anymore.

It doesn’t work like that, of course.

* * *

It’s too much to expect that her mother won’t notice that something is amiss, that first holiday after she and Hecate stop speaking.

Pippa greets her mother as effusively as ever, a stream of chatter about the term pouring out of her. She hopes against hope that if she speaks enough words her mother won’t ask about Hecate. She’d thought about how she’d do it, this barrage of words, but it’s harder than she thought, the places where Hecate should be, would normally be, sounding awkward and strange even to her own ears. Hecate’s absence feels glaringly conspicuous.

“My!” Pippa’s mother exclaims, taking another biscuit from the tray. “You have been keeping busy! And how is Hecate?”

“I hate her!” Pippa sobs, and bursts into tears.

“Oh my dear,” her mother says, coming around the table and wrapping her arms around Pippa. “My dear, sweet child.” She strokes Pippa’s hair with one hand. “There, there. My darling girl.”

* * *

She feels mostly relief, when she realizes she and Hecate will be attending different witching colleges. Pippa has had quite enough, thank you, of the exquisite agony of missing Hecate while still seeing her every day. A part of her regrets the loss of this one last bit of contact, however painful and unsatisfactory, but she hopes it will be improvement. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. She doesn’t really believe she’ll ever stop thinking about Hecate, but perhaps she can allow it to move to the back of her mind. Perhaps she can move forward, even if she can’t entirely move on.

In this, Pippa is partially successful. It’s months before she stops thinking for split-seconds that she sees Hecate everywhere on campus - across the quad, two desks over at the library, disappearing down the staircase, out of the corner of her eye. She knows full well Hecate isn’t there, but her heart hasn’t quite got the message yet. But college is exciting and stimulating and while she is both deeply homesick and Hiccup-sick at first, the feelings fade after a while. Not that she stops missing Hecate entirely - that, she fears and wishes in equal measure, will never happen.

* * *

Pippa is deciding what items to move from her childhood home to her first flat, when she comes across the stacks of letters from Hecate, tied with pink ribbon, tucked in the back of her closet.

Pippa pulls out one of the stacks. The letters are rather haphazardly arranged. Despite the ribbon holding them loosely together, one slides out and flutters to the floor. She puts the stack on the dresser and leans down to pick up the wayward letter. She turns it in her hands, running her fingers over the parchment. She feels fifteen years old again, all nerves and anxiety and unfolds the letter.

_Dear Pipsqueak,_

_How long this winter holiday seems! I was so glad to get you letter on Tuesday, it has been so dull here without you…_

Hecate’s neat, precise penmanship blurs before her eyes, and she gropes blindly behind her for the edge of the bed. She wipes her eyes clear and begins again to read.

She is surprised when her mother knocks on the open door and says dinner is ready. Pippa looks up, blinking at the letters strewn everywhere.

“Goodness,” her mother says with a smile. “Gone on a trip down memory lane?”

“Something like that,” Pippa says. “I’ll be right there, just give me a couple of minutes to tidy these up.”

“Would you like any help?”

“No,” Pippa replies quickly and more loudly than she intends, throwing an arm out. “No,” she repeats more quietly. “Thank you, though.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” her mother says. “Dinner can wait till you’re ready.”

Pippa runs two fingers over the letter in her lap. “Oh Hecate,” she breathes. She folds the letter and tucks it in her bag. With a quick flick of her wrist, she summons a dark magenta box and the rest of the letters land in a neat stack inside. “That’ll do for now,” she decides.

The box of letters are the first item to go into her nightstand at her new flat.

* * *

She misses Hecate as she works and plans to open Pentangles – this was her dream, and for a while, she thought, Hecate’s.

“Perhaps I will teach at your school,” Hecate had said, with a roll of her eyes, “if only to ensure that you don’t destroy _all_ witching tradition.

“I will appoint you Potions Mistress and Mistress of Traditions, how about that?”

“Do you think you’ll really do it?

“Appoint you? Of course!”

“No, create your own school.”

“Yes, why shouldn’t I?” Pippa leaned back on her elbows and surveyed Hecate.

“It’s a difficult undertaking, I imagine.”

“If we don’t have big dreams, how will we ever achieve greatness?”

“I suppose.”

“It’s okay, I can dream big enough for both of us.”

Hecate had smiled at that, that fond, affectionate smile that Pippa loved so much.

“You make me want to believe such things are possible,” Hecate had said shyly, and it had nearly taken Pippa’s breath away. “I don’t believe it,” Hecate teased, “but if anyone could do it, it would be you.” 

Then the bell rang for dinner, and the moment was lost.

* * *

She invites both Ada, and before she can change her mind, Hecate to the opening of Pentangles. Both accept.

Pippa spends the next week agonizing over what she will say to Hecate when she sees her.

“Ada, Hecate, well met,” Pippa says, as the two witches materialize on the grounds.

“Well met, Pippa,” Ada says. “And may I say congratulations! It’s so exciting to be here at your new school.”

“Thank you! I’m so excited this day has finally come.”

Hecate is holding herself as though she might shatter at the slightest touch. “Well met, Miss Pentangle,” Hecate says stiffly, “So this is your,” she sniffs, “modern witching school. How gratifying for you to achieve all your dreams.”

“Hecate!” Ada gasps.

_Except I didn’t get to share this life with you,_ Pippa thinks, anger burning all her painstakingly-planned speeches to ashes. “Yes,” Pippa agrees aloud with a dangerous sweetness, “It’s nice to know that those who aren’t afraid to pursue what they want can get it.”

Hecate’s eyes grow impossibly large, and it’s such a familiar expression that Pippa wants to cry. Perhaps some of this shows in her own face, for a moment later something like regret flits across Hecate’s face. Then Hecate lifts her chin slightly and stares at Pippa, a hard challenge in her eyes.

“Shall we get on with the tour?” Ada suggests hurriedly, looking from one witch to another.

“Certainly,” Pippa says, all professionalism. “If you will just give me a moment.” Or at least she thinks she does, but Ada’s still peering at them worriedly as though they might start hurling spells at each other any moment.

When she returns, Ada is speaking to Hecate in a tone too low for Pippa to hear, her hand on Hecate’s arm.

Pippa coughs.

Hecate looks over at her. “Miss Pentangle, I—apologize for my outburst earlier. I should not have said what I did.”

It’s not going down in the annals of history as the most gracious apology ever made, but Pippa can see that Hecate is trying, and besides, Hecate is not the only one who needs to make amends.

“That’s quite all right, Miss Hardbroom,” Pippa says, “I said some things I shouldn’t have either. I let my temper get away with me. Shall we cry frien-truce?”

Hecate nods her head slightly. It doesn’t really get better after that, but at least it doesn’t get any worse.

* * *

As the years pass, she becomes better at predicting when she’s going to miss Hecate the most - on her birthday, Hecate’s, the winter holidays, and the start of term, for example. But she also misses Hecate at the strangest times, when she hasn’t been thinking of her at all.

* * *

Somewhere nearby someone is playing a catchy, upbeat, frothy song and suddenly she can hear Hecate saying “Utterly ridiculous, Pipsqueak” and it’s so vivid that she turns around, convinced for one moment that Hecate really is there.

* * *

One moment she’s happily eating a toffee apple during the Halloween celebrations and the next, she’s overcome with a wave of longing for Hecate.

* * *

She’s in regular, if not frequent communication with Ada, and has been tempted to ask if Hecate ever mentions her. To do so feels uncomfortably like passing notes as a teenager though. She’s also never been sure how much Ada knows about her and Hecate’s shared history, and fond as she is of Ada, she’s reluctant to let slip more than is absolutely necessary.

She’s glad to hear whatever she can of Hecate, through Ada, though she is careful to appear interested only in a collegial way. Ada always means well, but Pippa’s certain she would want to try and help, and Pippa’s not sure she’s ready for that.

On the whole, these second-hand accounts of Hecate are much better than nothing, even if they do often leave her with an ache in her chest. Hecate seems happy enough, and that makes a great deal of difference.

* * *

“Packages for you from Cackle’s, Pippa,” Miss Riverstone says cheerfully, handing her a small satchel and a box.

“They’re both from Cackle’s? Are you sure?” Pippa asks. “I was only expecting one.”

“Both arrived direct from Miss Cackle,” Miss Riverstone replies.

“Well, thank you.”

Miss Riverstone nods and transfers out. Pippa opens the box first - as she expects, it contains a stack of books she’d requested from the Cackle’s library. There’s a thick envelope on top, and she opens, it curious. One sheet of paper is clearly different from the rest and she pulls it out.

_Dear Pippa,_

_I hope these are as useful to you as you hoped they would be. Please feel free to hold on to them as long as you like - Miss Folio would like them back eventually, but she says she can’t imagine that there will be much call for them here in the near future._

_The satchel contains a number of jars of seeds, along with a couple of cuttings. Hecate insists that if you are to have a proper potion-ingredient garden at Pentangles, these are absolutely essential. She also gave me a set of instructions (enclosed) to pass along to you as to the proper planting and care._

Pippa pauses and pulls the rest of the paper out of the envelope. It’s twenty-five sheets at least, of closely-written text, interspersed with illustrations of the plants. She snorts in a very un-headmistress-y sort of way. “You never do change, do you,” she murmurs fondly, and reaches for the satchel.

* * *

The first Spelling Bee between Cackles and Pentangles takes place at Pentangles. Pippa’s not even sure Hecate will come, but she does.

It doesn’t go terribly well. With the best of intentions, somehow she and Hecate slip back into snipping at each other. And yet she doesn’t give up hope. She feels as though she and Hecate are somehow stuck playing parts that they don’t really mean. The Hiccup she knows and loves is there somewhere. She _knows_ Hecate, and she knows she’s not really like this, not with her. But it’s been so long since they talked properly, and she’s not sure how to begin. Nor is the Spelling Bee the best place for the sort of heart-to-heart they need to have. They need space, and privacy. And she doesn’t want to push Hecate too hard while Hecate’s in an unfamiliar place, where she has no where to retreat to should she feel the need.

Still, she can feel the need to resolve this situation, once and for all, one way or another, building in her.

* * *

The second Spelling Bee, this time at Cackle’s and with Mildred Hubble, starts out very much the same. And then miraculously (Mildred Hubble, patron saint of lost causes), there they are, alone, in a room, facing each other.

And still somehow it’s not enough. Still they cannot find the words to find their way back to one another, and standing there, looking at Hecate, on the cusp of being able to pour her heart out, Pippa misses Hecate more than she has in her entire life. She can’t do this, she _can’t_. 

She almost leaves, but as she turns away she is gripped with the fear that if she says nothing now, if she does not make an attempt right here, in this moment, that she never will. She cannot bear that this is how they will go on for the rest of their lives. Anything is better than this. It’s time, she thinks, to stop worrying and to simply speak. So she does.

* * *

It’s a new beginning, and a renewal of something old and familiar as well. The decades still hang between them, awkward and painful, but not insurmountable. She has found Hiccup again, and that is a precious and wonderful thing. They have time to figure out the rest of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to try my hand at some Hicsqueak, and how could I resist a prompt that had such opportunities for pining? I hope you've enjoyed reading it as well.


End file.
